


The Playwright Crab

by Grim_Perfectionist



Category: Homestuck, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grim_Perfectionist/pseuds/Grim_Perfectionist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Codington, also known as Nepeta Leijon, is an aspiring actor, hoping to join the famous Vantas troupe travelling the grand country of England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Playwright Crab

“Even when you please, since you will have it so.”  


“To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: And so most joyfully we take our leave.”  


“Come; let us to our holy task again. Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.”  


The curtains dropped as the Act concluded, allowing the patrons of the play to move about. The guard let the people in and out of the theater, provided the necessary paperwork was available. Many of the patrons left to purchase some food from the fair outside, and the few that stayed squirmed restlessly in their seats.  


The only one who didn’t move and inch was a young girl of the age of 13, who sat in the last row, staring at the stage intently, with a grin on her face. She was an aspiring actor, not very good yet but working hard. She had even given herself a stage name, which would replace her own should she join or start a troupe. Currently she was Mary Codington, but the name she had given herself was Nepeta Leijon, a strange and foreign sounding name that she had chosen while day-dreaming at school one afternoon.  


After the brief intermission was over, the play began again. A few of the patrons whispered among themselves while the famous “Richard III” was performed on stage, but Nepeta stayed as quiet and as focused as she had been at the beginning of the play. When the play concluded she lingered for a moment, hoping to get one glimpse at the famous playwright, Karkat Vantas, who supposedly travelled with the troupe, writing plays as they went from town to town. The playbill she had received stated that the troupe would be in town for the next few days, so she had plenty of chances to see him.  


However this time she was to be disappointed. The playwright had other matters to attend to, and did not appear onstage as he often did after his plays were performed. He was very odd that way, publicly thanking his troupe and the audience after every play. Many playwrights tended to stay mysterious, hiding behind the curtains and props until every patron had left. In fact, if Vantas had not been so good at creating the things, he might have been an actor himself! His voice had that special intonation that allowed it to carry so far, even when he spoke in barely a whisper. They said that one could hear his voice in the middle of a thunderstorm if he wished it.  


But Nepeta cared for none of that, she merely wished for a chance to see the playwright’s face, one last time. For, you see, she was being sent off to a school for girls that summer, and was likely never going to be able to watch another of Vantas’ famous plays again! Such was the curse of such schooling, she thought. All curtsies and bows, and no time for “frivolous flights of fancy” as her stepmother called them. Her stepmother loathed plays, and looked upon Nepeta with disdain whenever she left or entered the house.  


Her father knew of none of this, of course, as busy as he was. He was a merchant, and was never home very often. He had business to attend to in lands across the channel, trading animals and other produce for gold to keep his business and family alive. He sent money home every month, a substantial amount. It was enough for them to live comfortably in their home with a few servants, her stepmother, and her stepbrother.  


Her stepmother was formerly the wife of a French ambassador, and came home when her father did 3 years ago. With her came a child, a young boy at the age of 12. His name was Edward Smith, and his father had died when he was 8. His mother married her father, and now they were step-siblings and very good ones too. Nepeta liked her stepbrother very much, and while he was somewhat younger than she, he seemed much older than his years. He often helped her when she was sad, angry, or hurt, most of these caused by the mistreatment of her step-mother. Most importantly, they shared one common trait among all others: absolute loathing for their step-mother.  


Edward’s mother went by the name Dorothy Codington, taking her father’s last name as was custom. She was kind, when her father was around. At all other times, she ran her children ragged, doing nothing except the cooking. The children had some free time, as the servants took care of much of the work instead, but most of it was spent on lessons. What remained was theirs to spend, and they spent it as best as they could.  


Normally, Nepeta remained on time whenever she left the house for her time. But today was special, and she stopped along the way to speak with some of the stall owners in the fair outside of the theater. Thus, she ran late coming home, and had to run to get home. She walked in the door, panting and sweaty. She ran upstairs, hoping to change before her step-mother found her, but instead Nepeta found her waiting at the top of the stairs, her younger brother held by the ear.  


“Where were you today?” Dorothy said sharply, giving a slight jerk on her brother’s ear. This made him whimper, and the small noise caused his mother to glare at him.  


Nepeta winced at the sound. “I-I was at the theater, ma’am…” she muttered, looking down at her shoes.  


“The theater and its surrounding area are disgusting places. A young lady such as yourself has no business being there. Why were you at the theater anyway?”  


“I was seeing a play, ma’am.”  


“A play?! Wastes of time, they are! Nothing but fantasies played out on slats of wood. Actors are naught but liars and fools, pretending to be something they are not! They are sinning every time they set foot upon the stage, playing the part of someone else, pretending to be who they are not!” As she said this, Dorothy drew herself up, seeming to grow a few inches before finishing her little speech. “Now, Mary-“  


“Nepeta.”  


“Excuse me?”  


“My name is Nep-!” My words were cut short as she slapped me.  


“Don’t talk back to your mother! Now Mary, I want you to go to your room and think about the sin you have witnessed on this day. Tomorrow, we shall go confess your sins to the priest, and perform the desired penance.”  


For a French woman, she was as Catholic as an English wife! Nepeta thought as she trudged to her room. She could still hear her speaking to Edward, no doubt still trapped by her iron grip.


End file.
